spinofflive
Rodney & Otamatea Times, August 1912
Rodney & Otamatea Times, August 1912

ScienceAugust 4, 2022

The New Zealand news nugget circling the globe 110 years after publication

Rodney & Otamatea Times, August 1912
Rodney & Otamatea Times, August 1912

A 1912 report in the Rodney & Otamatea Times is being shared everywhere. Is it real, where did it come from, and why is it proving so popular?

On Wednesday August 14, in the winter of 1912, a reader of the Warkworth-based Rodney & Otamatea Times (incorporating the Waitematā & Kaipara Gazette) who had shelled out the thruppence for the newspaper and made it as far as the seventh of its eight pages, might have scanned their eye across to the third column and arrived at “Science Notes and News”, a collection of short items from around the world. Beneath snippets on a very deep hole in Germany, on nickel kitchen utensils, and on a new “machine for skipping” that not only “turns the rope but records the number of skips”, came a paragraph-long report that more than a century later has achieved a status the very description of which would have baffled its reader and writer alike. It has gone viral.

“COAL CONSUMPTION AFFECTING CLIMATE,” was the headline. “The furnaces of the world are now burning about 2,000,000,000 tons of coal a year,” it began. “When this is burned, uniting with oxygen, it adds about 7,000,000,000 tons of carbon dioxide to the atmosphere yearly. This tends to make the air a more effective blanket for the earth and to raise its temperature. The effect may be considerable in a few centuries.”

And that was it. Science Notes and News proceeded without pause to other matters of the day, such as a new tunnel in Russia and the qualities of asparagus in light of the “awful odor which the use of this article of food causes in one of the bodily excretions”.

But it was the succinct, matter-of-fact 1912 nugget on carbon and climate that survived, or was reborn, in the leadup to its 110th birthday, shared by tens of thousands and viewed by millions on social media in response to this:

British Conservative MP Chris Skidmore, who recently opposed a plan to open a new coal mine in Cumbria, joined the party.

They were not the first, however, to disinter the August 14, 1912 edition of the Rodney & Otamatea Times (incorporating the Waitematā & Kaipara Gazette). The same 67-word report circled the digital world in 2016, in 2018 and again in 2021.

The report is authentic, certainly, and has passed every fact-check examiner it has faced. You can read it yourself on New Zealand’s best website, Papers Past. But, sadly, it was not the work of an industrious Warkworth journalist. It had earlier appeared in both British and Australian titles. The entire page, in fact, was published four weeks earlier by the Braidwood Dispatch and Mining Journal in New South Wales: holes, tunnels, skipping machine, coal consumption, everything. Even the layout and typography is identical, suggesting the plate may have been shipped over the Tasman after they were done with it. 

That version of the story has had its viral moments, too, albeit not on the scale of the Rodney & Otamatea Times. A 2016 Facebook post on the Dispatch and Journal report by the Braidwood Museum “reached over 180,000 people”, according to the Braidwood Times (the Dispatch folded in 1958). “The most common comment has been ‘Wow’,” a Braidwood Historical Society committee member told the paper.

Whether Braidwood, Rodney or wherever, the words of the item have since been traced by science writer Alex Kasprak back to Popular Mechanics magazine, then published out of Chicago, and its March 1912 edition, where they can be found in the caption to an image illustrating an article on the “Remarkable weather of 1911”. 

Even by the remarkable-weather year of 1911, the central tenets of the climate science that endures today had been around for some while. In 1824, French mathematician Joseph Fourier crunched numbers that suggested our planet, given its distance from the sun, should be cooler, and posited the existence of a blanket-like layer in the atmosphere. In 1856, the American scientist Eunice Foote published a paper that identified the predominant ingredient of that heat-absorbent blanket: carbon dioxide. 

Given all that, why did the Rodney & Otamatea Times clipping catch the social media tide? It has the advantage of concision and clarity, sheeting crisply home just how long our species has known about global heating – since long before the denialism and inaction became a talking point – in keeping with the observation by Benjamin Franklin on the failures to address the dangers of lead despite six decades of evidence: “You will observe with concern how long a useful truth may be known and exist, before it is generally received and practised on.” As for the Rodney masthead, the fact it emanates from a country largely isolated at the bottom of the world just emphasises that. And even when it’s not wholly true, the idea of New Zealand as a progressive pioneer prevails.

More prosaically, it may just be a matter of right time, right place – and it seems it was a New Zealand group, the Sustainable Business Network, that first shared the report on social media, in 2016. “Whether something goes viral on social media typically depends on factors like timing, novelty, irreverence or use of humour, the ease to share, public understanding of the message, etcetera,” said Alex Beattie, a specialist in media and climate change based at the Centre for Science in Society, Victoria University of Wellington. “But there’s no exact science or proven formula.” 

‘If you look through news archives and scientific journals there are many of these warnings dating back to the 1800s,” said Rebecca Priestley, a historian of climate change and associate professor at Victoria University of Wellington. 

She joins the dots between one example from the Christchurch Press in 1957, headlined  “Threat From Melting Of Polar Ice Caps”, and this week’s policy announcements in New Zealand. The Press report “warns of global warming leading to sea level rise”, said Priestley, “but it’s only now, in 2022 – when we can see and measure the effects of sea level rise, and make projections about what the next few decades will bring – that we’re really starting to take sea level rise seriously and start planning for it with measures outlined in the just published National Adaptation Plan.”

Priestley continued: “When we see old news reports like this, it’s important that we don’t just beat ourselves up for not responding to climate change sooner. These early warnings and hypotheses led to decades of scientific research that has provided us with evidence of why and how and how fast our global climate is changing. And that evidence is now clear. The first IPCC report was published in 1990, and the evidence for climate change has been getting stronger with every report.” 

The latest report, in April this year, came with a press release that read, “The evidence is clear: the time for action is now. We can halve emissions by 2030,” noted Priestley. “But those of us encouraging change, and trying to enact change, are really aware that there are businesses, governments and individuals with such vested interests in the status quo that they are working against action on climate change.

Priestley, whose PhD is in the history of science, admitted to finding old news reports on climate change fascinating, but urged us to face the right way. “The only thing we can change is the future. The climate is changing, the oceans are warming, the ice sheets are melting, but what happens next is not inevitable, it’s up to us, collectively,” she said. “We need to do everything we can to meet our Paris Agreement targets, because two degrees warming is not as bad as 3 degrees warming, and three degrees warming is not as bad as four degrees warming. And so on. As the Extinction Rebellion call says, ‘the science is clear, our future is not’.”

As for the Rodney & Otamatea Times (incorporating the Waitematā & Kaipara Gazette), it was bought up by Fairfax in 2005 and today continues, as the abbreviated Rodney Times, published weekly on a Thursday. It noted its own moment in the social media spotlight back in 2016, remarking, half a tongue in cheek: “The Rodney Times has always provided insightful content to readers. In fact, we even predicted climate change more than 100 years ago!”

Keep going!
Image: Getty Images
Image: Getty Images

ScienceJuly 25, 2022

Should we all be guinea pigs for medical research?

Image: Getty Images
Image: Getty Images

The public health benefits are significant – so should participation in medical research be an obligation we need to opt out of, rather than opt in to?

In April, the Dunedin Multidisciplinary Health and Development Study – the Dunedin Study, for short – celebrated its 50th birthday. Staff and a few journalists assembled in the outdoor courtyard of the study’s research facility in North Dunedin, where Professor Richie Poulton, director of the study since 2000, and Dunedin mayor Aaron Hawkins both said a few words to celebrate the research and the fruitful relationship between the city and the University of Otago, where the study is based. Each gripped the handle of the same knife and sliced through a cake decorated with the number 50.

This modest affair belied the Dunedin Study’s international significance. It represents a staggering volume of data that has produced the most detailed portrait of human health and development in the world.

The study’s reliance on the same human subjects over five decades also raises an ethical question that has gathered momentum in recent years. Simply put, should human participation in health-related research be the exception or the rule? Should we view participation in research, whether longitudinal like the Dunedin Study or clinical, as an obligation? That is, instead of needing a good reason to participate in research, should we need one to opt out?

Not in attendance that day last April, but certainly on my mind, were the 1,037 people born in Dunedin between April 1972 and March 1973. Their parents enrolled them at birth in a lifelong study that will return them to Dunedin for assessments at regular intervals until they die. An assessment lasts about 10 jam-packed hours, each minute costing thousands of dollars: teeth are examined, blood tested, DNA and RNA sampled. Skulls are photographed with a 3D camera. The “retinal nerve fibre layer” is measured. Participants also undergo wide-ranging cognitive tests and “lifestyle assessments,” including questions about illegal activity and sexual behaviour. Researchers talk to families and read police records and tax and credit reports.

It’s an exhausting day, but the Dunedin Study has retained a remarkable 94 percent of its remaining 994 participants. Though the study understandably (and fiercely) guards its participants’ identities, it’s not difficult to find them if you live in Dunedin, as I do, where everybody seems to know someone who is enrolled in the Dunedin Study. 

When I contacted a few participants and asked how they felt about their role, they shared a common vocabulary: “privileged,” “grateful,” “the right thing to do.” They wanted to contribute to an understanding of human health that encompasses social policy, law, genetics, and epidemiology around the world, even if it didn’t benefit them directly, and even if their individual contribution might not lead directly to a discovery. 

One person described the thrill of learning the Dunedin Study had improved the lives of children in conflict with the law (the American Supreme Court’s decision to prohibit the execution of underage murderers cited the Dunedin Study, which showed most juvenile criminality is transient). Another was proud of research that showed lead exposure in children could result in psychopathologies in adults. Dunedin Study cohort and assessment manager Sean Hogan told me he visited an imprisoned participant who said he hadn’t done much with his life, “but he had done this.” Poulton said he was “humbled” by participants’ “heroic” commitment, courage, and resilience.

Dunedin Study director Professor Richie Poulton (Photo: Supplied / via RNZ)

Such passion surrounding a heath-related research project or clinical trial is rare. How many of us willingly sacrifice our time and offer our bodies to an ongoing study for no pay or immediate benefit? 

The suggestion that we have an obligation to do so is gaining traction in research ethics. The argument goes something like this: Health-related research on human subjects is a public good. The rewards are significant, from the eradication of smallpox to the development of penicillin. While money and infrastructure are essential, so are the many anonymous people who agree to take part. Since research produces knowledge beneficial to everyone, we all have an obligation to participate, for this and future generations. As you might feel obliged to vote in elections or recycle plastic, so you should obliged to join a research study.

Proponents say there’s too much free riding these days, especially when a global pandemic has shown us how important volunteers can be for clinical trials. Opting in to research can have a considerable impact. One American estimate shows that if the number of volunteer cancer patients increased from five to 10 percent, the study completion rate would drop from four years to one.  

These arguments, however, don’t take account of certain realities. Not all research is ethical. Remember New Zealand’s so-called “unfortunate experiment” (1955-1976), in which women at the National Women’s Hospital in Auckland with abnormal cervical smear results went untreated, without their consent and with deadly results. Moreover, in countries such as the United States, where healthcare access is not guaranteed, many would not see the benefits of their participation, simply because they lack health insurance. Not all research is worthwhile, focusing as it does on conditions that affect a minority of the world’s population, but are nonetheless profitable to market. That is, some research is designed to make money, not make the world a better place.

If obligatory participation in research was to become a social norm, these realities would need to be addressed. In the meantime, good work is undertaken. By any measure, the Dunedin Study is worthwhile and ethical, helping the many, not the few, with participants guaranteeing their full, informed consent, and research results published widely. If we were asked to participate in such a study, perhaps we should feel a twinge of guilt if we didn’t—especially those of us like me, with a kidney transplant, who have benefitted from medical research with human subjects.

I met the avuncular Sean Hogan before the party in April. I followed his greying ponytail around the “research unit,” a warren of rooms with lime-green furniture and measuring instruments of all sorts. At one point, he had me, for the fun of it, squeeze a handgrip with a digital display to test my arm strength. I did, and the number shown seemed terribly low. “You did great,” he assured me. “You’re part of research now.” I knew he was joking, but still. It felt good. 

Then he asked me if I’d be willing to be a guinea pig for the guinea pigs – to sacrifice a day a few years from now to give the various tools and instruments a test drive before the cohort arrived for its next assessment. Without hesitation, I said, “I’m in.”